AN: I changed chapter's 9 &10 to make sense with the plot. I would recommend that you re-read those before you read this. I know it's been forever since I have updated, I hope you all enjoy it. Please R&R!

Withdraw

I hated being unable to move my shoulder without prickling the pain. That damn Alexander had to shoot me; I would rather that he had killed me then allow me to wallow in this amount of pain. I guess that was he reasoning, to make me suffer just I had made him suffer all those years ago. I tried to move from the couch in my flat towards the window only to have my body protest. I gritted my teeth as I looked out at the bustling street below me, I wished for a moment to be that carefree without pain. It had been three weeks since I was released from the hospital. The sunlight cast a beam through my window onto the red-carpet that lined my rooms. My ears were trained towards the door, I was expecting a caller at any moment and I needed to move towards it. With great effort, I moved with my right shoulder pointed ahead to lead me towards my couch. I thought about lying on the couch but the sound of feet on the stair prevented me. The door to my flat opened to reveal John with his black bag hanging by his side. He smiled sympathetically at my pain; he understood it all to well. He had been shot in the same shoulder as I had back in the war. "How's the pain today, Claire?" He asked me tenderly as he helped me sit down on the couch.

I struggled to pull a smile as I reset my position against the plush of the sofa. "I honestly don't know how you were able to deal with this amount of pain, John." My tone was even enough but my eyes gave away how much pain I was really in.

John rubbed his old wound and chuckled, "It gets better, trust me Claire. If you weren't so stubborn about using the medicine I give you, you would feel better." He pointed to my untouched medicine. It was morphine and I hated using it because it made me sleep for days on end. I wanted everything to be like they used to be in terms of my health. I looked at the door frame expecting to see a certain lanky detective in it. Instead, there was nothing. John followed my gaze and shook his head. "I wanted to bring Holmes but, he was not home when I left for your flat. I assume he is off on a case." I could see there was a question in his eyes but I had not the fortitude to answer it.

I needed a release from the confines of pain that wasn't morphine. My mind logically went to the idea of Sherlock's syringe. He could administer it a little at a time so I wouldn't have a bad reaction to it. I toyed with the idea of us both using the drug, which brought up an interesting scenario in my mind. John looked at me oddly as I was musing as if what I was doing was bizarre. I raised a questioning eyebrow as he drew the proper dosage of morphine into a syringe.

"You look at lot like him when you are thinking, it's a bit odd. Now, I'll give you a low dose and hopefully it will numb the pain." The good doctor reassured me like any patient and slowly pushed the needle into my skin. I flinched as the fluid filled my veins; I knew it would not be long before I felt the effects of the drug. John poured the tea from the pot I had sitting on my desk and handed me a cup.

I raised it to my lips and drank it as slow as possible. "Do you want to know why I'm so stubborn about using the morphine?" I asked John as I put the porcelain cup down.

My cousin, Doctor John Watson thought for a moment, his forehead wrinkled with thought. "I know you are worried about a possible reaction, but I keep telling you its very rare to have an allergy to morphine." He sipped the tea and continued to look at me with those sky blue eyes.

I blinked my own pair of blue eyes at him, "It's not that John, I'm worried about ...addiction. I have known just as many people as you who have fallen to an addiction of some sort. Plus, I had that fever from the operation." My mind wandered back a little to my time at the hospital. I didn't like being poked by doctors besides my cousin and the small space also made me annoyed.

John looked at me with kindness in his eyes, "Listen to me Claire, you won't get addicted to morphine. You already said you don't like using it much, so there isn't much point of you worrying. I brought some willow bark tea that should help the pain some. If you would like, I could massage your shoulder." John took out a package of tea and placed it on my coffee table.

I smiled, aware of the effort he was putting into making me well. "Thank you so much John, for helping me. I wish there was something I could do in return." My throbbing shoulder stopped throbbing at long last which meant the morphine would soon send me to sleep. I fought the drowsiness and kept my eyes open long enough to hear my cousin's reply.

John smiled back at me and rubbed my shoulder a bit, "I just want you to get well. Maybe after you feel a bit better, I can convince you to go on holiday to help speed your healing process." His rough hand felt nice on my bad shoulder but his suggestion for a holiday was unnerving. As I was about to protest, the drowsy effect of the morphine became too much for my body to fight. My eyes closed and off I was to dream whether or not I wanted it.

Third-Person P.O.V

Dr. Watson watched his much younger cousin fall asleep on the couch despite her best efforts not to. He took it upon himself to carry her to her bedroom and lay her on her bed. Watson knew that when she woke, that she would have a few choice words for him about her holiday. "I know you want to see this through, but I don't want to risk you getting hurt again." He said aloud, knowing that she could not hear him. Watson hated lying to anyone especially Claire, but he knew where Holmes was, and it wasn't on the streets of London. The lanky detective was at home, devising a perfect plan to cut his ties to Claire without utterly destroying her in the process. The detective had put more thought into this because not only of his true feelings towards Claire but because Watson was his partner as well her cousin and he didn't want to lose Watson. These were the thoughts that occupied Holmes's mind as he smoked his clay pipe in earnest.

Watson made sure Claire was comfortable before he left the flat, his heart twisted with the burden that Holmes laid on it. He had agreed because it was best for everyone, but it still didn't help his conscience any. The doctor left the building and headed back to his own home in hope that Mary would lessen his burden.

Three Days Later...

Claire was sipping the willow bark tea that Watson had left and soured at the taste. She placed a spoon of sugar in the cup in hope that it would taste better. Just as she was about to try it, there was a knock on her door. She raised an eyebrow, "Come in." She said pleasantly and saw her landlady Rose in the doorway.

The older woman shuffled her feet uncomfortably as if the sight of Claire still in a dressing gown was uncommon. "Mr. Sherlock Holmes is here to see you, miss. Do you want me to ask him to wait?" Her implied message got through to Claire who shook her head.

"Please show him in, Mrs. Rose." Claire's tone was civil if a bit short. Rose nodded and gestured for Holmes to come up the stairs. The older woman shook her head as she went about her business of starting to cook dinner.

Holmes shuffled into his assistant's flat, amazed that it was still as clean as ever despite her condition. His eyes focused on Claire as she stiffly stood to greet him, her eyes brighter then they had been. "I apologize for not coming to see you sooner, Miss. Watson. Dr. Watson informed me that you were still getting used to using the morphine. I take it, you are doing better?" Holmes spoke in a clear-cut tone which seemed to pass without mention.

Claire gestured for him to sit and allowed herself to do the same which wrinkled her dull red dressing gown that covered her nightgown. "I am getting better, although it is slower than I would like. Last time I was shot, it was only a grazing shot so, it was not as bad. In any case, I am glad you came to see me Mr. Holmes." Her right hand brushed her left shoulder as the ache was slowly ebbing from the tea.

Holmes watched her drink the tea, and for a moment he was going to tell her his plans but his mind knew better. "My purpose for this visit is to discuss what occurred before you were rushed to the hospital." Holmes's tone switched from pleasant to serious which was indicated further by his hard gaze.

Claire surveyed this change of tone with slight surprise and as she put down her tea, her mind shot back to that short kiss. "You have to understand, I thought I was going to die..." Her voice trailed off as if she wasn't sure what to say next. "But, my feelings towards you have not changed." Her tone matched Holmes's for seriousness.

Holmes took a deep breath, every part of him wanted to do the opposite of what he was about to do. "Miss. Watson, although I do care for you more than any other woman I have ever met. However, this situation we are in now does not permit us to work together in any form. I can not focus on my work if you are there. Your feelings towards me will only result in heart-break since I cannot return these same feelings. So, that is why I must terminate you immediately from my employ." Holmes made his tone deliberate and cold like he was talking to a client. His grey eyes bore into Claire's skull.

Claire wasn't sure how to react to this speech, which not only terminated her job but her friendship with Holmes. Her face contorted into a mask of confusion, "Why did you wait to tell me this? If you knew then you couldn't return my feelings, why didn't you tell me at the hospital?" Her hands were shaking from the nerves and her eyes looked panicked.

Holmes knew she deserved at least a grain of the truth to why he waited, "Because, you were just starting to recover. I thought the shock would further jeopardize your recovery. I should have told you sooner." He reached out and clasped her hands with his own.

Claire withdrew her hands from his clasp, "You should have told me sooner than allow me to even imagine that you had any sort of feeling towards me." Claire remained coherent despite the fact her blue eyes were filling with tears. "Are my feelings of love so horrible to fathom that your actions are to destroy them?" Her tears were falling fast and her shoulders began to shake.

Holmes knew that she would cry and damn him, but he did not foresee the impact of her words on his heart. It twisted horribly in his chest and his throat tightened. "I have said many times that the affairs of the heart are not my specialty, Miss. Watson. I do not consider your feelings horrible, they are just misplaced. You have known all along that I am a man not inclined towards love in any regard. I had hoped that you would realize the error of your ways and move that love to someone else." Holmes couldn't bear to keep talking, because his heart was fighting so hard against his iron mind that he though he might lose it.

Claire felt her gut twist in grief and the loud mournful sound emitted from her throat. "Don't you think I had these exact same misgivings about telling you in the first place? I did not plan to fall in love with you but, I did. Now, I realize how futile it was to think that things would be any different with you. I foolishly thought that because you had been in my life so long, you would understand me better than any other. Now, I do see my error in ever hoping that I could love again." Claire's weeping grew louder as she stood up and opened the door to the short hallway and the street that lay beyond it. "You are no longer welcome in my home or in my presence again." Her tear streaked face was now a mask of anger.

Holmes said nothing and walked out of the door and began to run towards Bakerstreet. He wanted to run away from those feelings but, he was completely ensnared by his assistant. She was beautiful, brilliant and brought much needed light to his life. He stopped running once he got to Bakerstreet. His heart felt heavy as he climbed those stairs into his office, he could no longer keep the tears at bay. He hated feeling so vulnerable and so emotional, he needed to be numb. By instinct, his right hand flew to the drawer in the desk and took out the syringe. It was not long before he inserted the needle into a vein and pushed the plunger down. He felt the grief and guilt ebb away in favor of the numb feeling from the combined power of the morphine and cocaine.

Claire was collapsed on her bed, the sheer force of Holmes's words still echoing in her head. Her heart was tearing at the seams for a third time and this time there was no burying of feelings like before. The urge to feel nothing was overwhelming, but she knew that would drive her to the morphine. Instead, she had her landlady Rose go fetch Watson, if there was anyone who could help her it was her dependable cousin, Dr. John Watson.